


Childhood Memory

by Jadeycakes99



Series: Autistic Castiel [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autism, Autistic Castiel, Child Abuse, Flashbacks, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeycakes99/pseuds/Jadeycakes99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean finds a mark on Castiel, it brings up memories that aren't so great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood Memory

**Author's Note:**

> talesfromthechickpea is brilliant and fantastic and beta'd this for me.

Cas was sprawled on the couch watching television while he waited for Dean to come home. He’d been waiting for a few hours; he hadn’t seen Dean since he woke up, and he was looking forward to spending time with him. After a few hours of engrossed binge watching, he felt something on his hand. Cas startled, but grinned when he realized it was Dean.

“Hi. How did your lunch go?” Cas asked, shutting off the television. Dean knelt by the couch, and kissed Castiel’s hand. 

“It was good. Sam’s a little stressed out about law school; you should talk to him.” 

“About what?” Cas asked, tilting his head.

“College stuff,” Dean muttered as he went back to Cas’s hand, covering it with kisses. When he turned his palm over, Dean stopped. “What did that come from?”

“Where did what come from?” Castiel asked. Dean pointed to a small circular scar on his wrist. Castiel didn’t speak. Unlike other times when he paused, he wasn’t considering his words; he was considering whether he wanted to tell the story.

#

Castiel had started smoking when he was fourteen. He had to keep it hidden from his mother, a difficult task as she had a sharp nose. He found smoking helped him focus and it calmed him down. He didn’t feel the need to stim as much when he was smoking. The ritual and habit was enough. Pack the cigarettes against his palm, pull one out of the package, flip it between his fingers, light it, and inhale. He could tap away the ash or take a hit when he needed a moment to think about how to phrase a sentence. Smoking helped; as far as he was concerned, the rewards outweighed the risks. He had started after watching a video in health class. People had talked about their addictions and everyone who spoke about cigarettes said smoking helped them calm down. Cas had been sick of Michael calling him a spaz. He’d heard it much less often since he’d taken up the habit. 

Castiel had woken up late, which meant he would be late to breakfast, would be late to leave the house, and he would be an hour late to his appointment. The driver would surely tell his mother. Castiel started to hum and reached for his cigarettes. He was halfway through, when he heard a knock at the door. 

“Castiel?” Michael’s voice rang through the solid wood door. Cas didn’t answer. The door opened and sixteen-year-old Castiel stared at his older brother, unsure what to do. “Cas,” Michael said disappointedly. “You know I have to tell Mom, right?” Castiel simply hummed louder—he had managed to keep his smoking a secret for two years.

“Please,” Cas managed to choke out. “Please don’t.”

“Castiel, you’re supposed to behave normally. Smoking could affect your therapy. We don’t want that, right?” Michael asked slowly, as if Castiel couldn’t possibly understand. Castiel hated when Michael used that tone of voice. Castiel was far more intelligent than Michael regardless of how abnormal his family thought him. He didn’t want to be treated like a small child. 

“Michael, please don’t.” The cigarette wasn’t helping anymore. Castiel dug his fingers into his wrists anxiously, the cigarette between his fingers bending under the pressure. Michael sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Cas.” He turned around. “Mom, could you deal with this?” Naomi’s footsteps echoed down the hallway before she stopped in Castiel’s doorway and smiled at her eldest son. 

“Of course, darling. I’m sorry for making you deal with him this early.” She patted Michael’s shoulder gingerly.

“Castiel!” she admonished shrilly, making Cas cover his ears with his hands and resume humming tunelessly. It wasn’t helping either. He looked up briefly to see his mother’s mouth move, but didn’t hear her request.

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop,” Castiel mumbled, rocking where he sat. Exasperated, Naomi walked over to the bed and pried his hands from his ears.

“I said quiet hands, Castiel.” Cas shakily put his hands down by his sides.

“Is this a cigarette?” Naomi asked, plucking the still-lit cigarette from his fingers. 

Castiel stared at her, unable to speak. He could barely even form cohesive thoughts. The sound of his mother’s breathing and the playful shrieking of his sister were overwhelming. He just wanted everything to stop. It was loud and angry, and Castiel was done with the situation. Bits of thoughts struck through his mind rapidly, but the main point was clear: his mother needed to stop. 

When he didn’t answer, Naomi slapped him across the face. “I asked you a question, Castiel. Is this a cigarette?” Any verbal response refused to form, but he nodded. The thing in her hand was a cigarette. That was one thing his brain seemed able to agree upon.

“Where did you get these?” Naomi asked calmly. Cas shook, unable to speak; he needed to be allowed to stim and calm himself down if he was going to respond verbally. His mother sighed. “Well, you don’t have friends. Was it one of your brothers?” Castiel didn’t respond; he just froze ever so slightly and, evidently, looked guilty. “I thought so.” She left the room as quickly as she had entered. As soon as she was gone, Castiel started twisting his arms together anxiously; the pressure of his arms against each other helped to clear his mind slightly.

Naomi returned not long after, his siblings following behind her. Castiel didn’t like other people in his room. He dug his fingers into his arms, trying to remain calm, as his siblings lined up near the door. 

“Which one of you bought him cigarettes?” Naomi asked, standing at the foot of Castiel’s bed. Her voice never lost its cool, calm tone. She didn’t yell or shout; she kept herself under control at all times—even when she punished or slapped him. His mother was unshakeable. The siblings looked at each other and then down at the floor. “All of you will be punished if someone doesn’t come forward immediately.” It took a moment, but Lucifer stepped toward her. 

“I did,” Lucifer said. Castiel blinked in surprise. Gabriel had bought them. Castiel’s gaze flicked quickly to Gabriel, who also looked surprised. Naomi quirked her head, maintaining a neutral smile. 

“Thank you for your honesty, Lucifer. Everyone else may leave.” The others filed out of the room; Gabriel left Cas with what he thought might be a look of sympathy, but Cas wasn’t sure.

“Do you smoke, Lucifer?” Naomi asked. 

“No. Look, I’m sorry,” he began, his eyes downcast. 

Naomi didn’t give him a chance to explain. “I can’t believe you would do that to your brother. You know he doesn’t know better.” 

Castiel set his jaw angrily, still unable to speak. He was well aware of the possible complications of smoking. Even if he hadn’t been, he was perfectly capable of researching the warning label on the packet. Castiel also doubted Gabriel would have bought them for him if he had thought Cas would have been in serious danger. Gabriel was really the only one who understood what smoking meant to him. He had caught Castiel smoking under the bleachers at school. After a long conversation, Gabriel saw smoking really did calm him down. Gabriel figured, as long as he was the one buying them for his brother, he couldn’t overdo it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Lucifer responded, not daring to look up.

“Castiel, give him the cigarettes.” Castiel’s eyes widened and he shook his head wildly. It was his last pack. Without them, his mother would notice he was stimming more, and then he’d be back up to two sessions a week. “I said, give him the cigarettes.” Naomi narrowed her eyes. Cas clenched his fists and shook his head firmly. 

Naomi grabbed his arm and jammed the lit cigarette into his wrist. Cas wanted to howl in pain, but the sound caught in his throat as he gasped at the shock of the burn. She dropped his arm. He dug the pack out from his pillowcase, and handed it to a frightened Lucifer. Naomi nodded as Lucifer opened it.

“Good, there’s still a half pack left. I want you to smoke the rest of those,” Naomi commanded. Lucifer nodded before fleeing the room. She turned back to Castiel. “Get ready, dear. You have an appointment in an hour. Let’s not talk about this morning. It’s been dreadful and I think it’s best forgotten.” Castiel nodded quickly, tears hot in his eyes. Today was going to be a silent day in therapy.

#

“Cas?” Dean asked worriedly. 

“Huh?”

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” Dean looked at Cas for a second before smiling. 

“I asked, where you got this.” Dean tapped the scar lightly with his thumb.

“It must be a birthmark,” Castiel recited the lie he’d practiced in his head. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Dean. He just didn’t want to talk about it. Dean shrugged and continued to kiss up his arm. Castiel pulled his arm back, stood up, and walked away. Dean watched him curiously for a moment before shrugging. Cas probably just wasn’t feeling very affectionate at the moment. It had happened before to the both of them. They just weren’t in the mood for the affection the other had to offer, but something was different this time. Dean could tell what the mark was. It was quite clear, but he’d thought Cas would tell him bluntly like he usually did whenever Dean came across a peculiar mark. 

Cas had been distracted by something that put the spacey look on his face—the one Cas wore whenever they talked about something uncomfortable. Dean would never press, but he was a bit sad; he was usually Cas’s most trusted confidant. He wondered if he was his first confidant—his childhood hadn’t exactly been stellar. Dean clicked on the TV; Cas would tell him when he was ready. He just hoped for the “evil bitch’s” (the pet name he’d given his fiancé’s mother) sake, she hadn’t had anything to do with it.


End file.
